Unwed Teen Fathers Get A Helping Hand

October 11, 1985|By Kathleen Teltsch, New York Times

NEW YORK — Being an unmarried teen-age father who is going to school and holding a job has not been easy, says Bryant McCullough, but he looks to the future with confidence and has dreams for his daughter.

''I want to keep close to her, watch her grow up and hope she'll succeed in life,'' he says. ''I want her to know school is not a joke. I want her to get the best education possible.''

Even before the baby's birth, he joined the Teen Father Program at the Medical College of Pennsylvania Hospital in Philadelphia. This is one of eight pilot programs around the country begun two years ago with a $700,000 grant from the Ford Foundation to the Bank Street College of Education, which directs and coordinates the program. At each site, the project is supported by local philanthropies, in this case by the Philadelphia Foundation and a coalition of other organizations.

''Teen-age fathers have been a seriously neglected population,'' says Debra G. Klinman, an educational psychologist who directed the foundation's national program for unwed teen-age fathers. She asserts that most social agencies ignore fathers in focusing solely on the mothers -- 270,076 babies were born to unwed teen-agers in the United States in 1983, according to the Alan Guttmacher Institute in New York.

The national teen-age father program was discussed at a three-day meeting in New York last week at the Ford Foundation and the Sheraton Centre hotel.

The program's findings, Klinman said, should help discredit the myth that young men who father children out of wedlock are irresponsible and have little concern for their children. Of the 395 teen-age fathers participating in the eight cities, 82 percent have daily contact with their children and 74 percent help support their child. Fewer than 10 percent marry, but most couples maintain their relationship.

''These myths, which picture young fathers as hit-and-run victimizers of women, are applied indiscriminately to every young man who fathered a child in his teens,'' Klinman said, ''but we have learned that for at least some the stereotypes do not apply.''

''If a guy gets hooked early enough to form an emotional bond with his child, he's considerably more likely to maintain his attachment,'' she maintains. The ''critical time'' for such involvement, she says, is usually the last weeks of pregnancy.

Bryant McCullough of Philadelphia seems to be a case in point. He was 17 when he became a father -- he was in the delivery room supporting and comforting Tawanna Edmonds, the baby's 16-year-old mother, on the day Danita was born 13 months ago.

They had gone together to prenatal clinic sessions at the Medical College Hospital. He was unemployed when he enrolled in the Teen Parent Program and began receiving counseling from Les Willis, the coordinator. With his help, the young father shifted to Benjamin Franklin High School and a work-study program that let him find a job and help support his daughter.

Although the parents live apart, every afternoon he goes by bus from his maintenance job in a Philadelphia bakery to visit.

A graduating senior -- he has won an honorable mention for scholastic achievement -- he wants to be a mechanical engineer. ''He definitely has college potential,'' says Willis, who volunteered to help him look at nearby universities.

All of the programs try to help the teen-agers complete school, develop job skills, learn about being a good parent and avoid further unplanned pregnancies.

At each of the sites the program was shaped to meet specific needs. In Bridgeport, Conn., for example, the goal is to attract young Hispanic fathers. Manuel Cardona, the local coordinator, created signs in Spanish about the program and posted them in schools and recreation centers. ''Manuel went to parks and poolrooms wherever the teen-agers were,'' Klinman said. ''He was a Pied Piper.''

The program in Minneapolis reaches young Indian fathers and is run by an Indian staff. In Portland, Ore., the teen-agers are largely from white, lower- income families who were reached through the hospitals. In Poughkeepsie, N.Y., the program serves blacks and whites, providing counseling and emphasizing birth control. In Louisville, Ky., the program seeks teen-age couples but also tries to reach and involve their families, including grandparents.

At some of the eight sites, the Teen Parent Program was set up in hospitals, in storefronts or in Y buildings. In San Francisco, the Teen-Age Pregnancy and Parenting program is in Sunshine High School in a multiethnic neighborhood and since 1983 has served 250 teen-age fathers, mainly Hispanic or black. It is the largest of the eight programs and receives financial support from federal, state and city agencies and the San Francisco Foundation. It is coordinated by the Family Services Agency of San Francisco in conjunction with the city's schools.

''I heard about the program from a friend who had a child and I checked it out, liked the atmosphere and signed on,'' said Cameron Stuckey, 17, who then persuaded his girlfriend, Deanna Mason, to join the San Francisco program also. The couple attended prenatal classes and he watched the birth of his son, Gabriel, now a 13-month-old toddler.

''I never knew my own father,'' Stuckey said. ''He took no responsibility for me and I was raised by my grandmother. I want to make sure my son knows me and knows I love him.'' He said he sees his son every day and contributes what he can to his support. A high school junior, he has held part-time jobs as a bus boy and as an assistant to a carpenter.

''I know the money goes out of my pants pocket and into diapers for him,'' he said, laughing. ''I also know there is more to taking care of a baby than giving him milk in a bottle. He'll always be my son and one thing I'm sure about, he'll always know where I am.''